


Pierced

by celtic7irish



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: Bruce groaned as he shifted, his body aching in that familiar way that meant the Other Guy had made an unscheduled appearance.





	Pierced

**Author's Note:**

> For the Science Bros Week 2017 Prompt: Pierce

Bruce groaned as he shifted, his body aching in that familiar way that meant the Other Guy had made an unscheduled appearance. When the transformation was deliberate, he oftentimes remained conscious afterwards.

 

He coughed, his nose and throat clogged with dust, which was not helping him stay calm. Nor was the fact that one of his leg was pinned by something and he was lying on a hard, smooth surface.  What the hell had happened?

 

“You awake there, Big Guy?” a familiar voice spoke in his ear, and Bruce realized that the thing he was lying on was Tony, in the Iron Man armor.

 

“Wha-?” he started, struggling to sit up. Something shifted with a loud clatter, sending up a plume of dust and debris.  Tony eased him back while he choked, gasping for air that wasn’t there.

 

“Whoa, take it easy there, Bruce,” Tony admonished softly while he caught his breath. “Your leg’s pinned, and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t injure yourself further.  My suit’s busted, so I can’t even tell you how bad it is.”  Tony’s voice was low with exhaustion.  Though now that he’d mentioned it…

 

“I can’t feel my leg,” Bruce observed, surprisingly calm about it.

 

There was a pause behind him. “That’s…probably not good, huh?” Tony asked at last, sounding a bit worried.

 

“Probably not,” Bruce agreed. Then, since there was nothing he could do about it at the moment anyhow, he turned his mind to more pressing matters. “What happened? Did anyone get hurt? Are you hurt?”  His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth, but he was pretty sure he’d managed to get his questions verbalized.

 

“Uh..well, Doom’s mechanical bull threw me through a wall. Hulk threw the bull through the wall.  Things get a bit hazy after that.  But now you’re awake, so maybe we can get out of here!” Tony added brightly, completely ignoring Bruce’s other questions.  Which mean he was probably hurt and unwilling to admit it.  What Bruce didn’t know was how badly.

 

Bruce took in their surroundings for the first time. “I’m pretty sure calling out the Other Guy will result in us being crushed,” he said, eyeing a crossbeam that appeared to be holding the majority of the structure off of them.  The pile of steel and bricks pinning his leg looked one shift away from rolling onto his other leg and crushing them both.  Bruce wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep the Other Guy back if that happened.  The current lack of feeling in his pinned leg was a mixed blessing right now.

 

“I still have my suit,” Tony pointed out. “And I’m pretty sure the Hulk would be able to dig us out of here.”  His voice was starting to sound strained, like he was fighting against a panic attack.  Bruce remembered belatedly that Tony hated anything that reminded him of a cave, and this definitely qualified, trapped as they were.

 

Still, Bruce was hesitant, his thought process more sluggish than usual. He felt like he was missing something, but Tony’s voice was still modulated by the armor, and Bruce couldn’t turn around to look at him.  “The others,” he started, but Tony cut him off.

 

“They don’t know which building we’re in,” he said harshly. “Those damn bulls took out an entire city block.  And I can’t get a signal out.”  Which meant that the Avengers would have to go building by building until they found the right one, and depending on how far down they were, it was possible that they’d go right past them.

 

There was a long, drawn out sigh behind him, and Tony’s head dropped forward to lean against Bruce’s shoulder.  “Bruce, please, I need you to trust me on this one.  If you can call the Hulk, do it.  I promise I’ll be fine.  But if we don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to end up blasting my way out.  And given the state of my repulsors right now, I’ll probably blow myself up.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce started, but he was interrupted by a loud rumble and a mechanical scream.  Bruce had just enough time to look up and see death coming for them in the shape of a mangled monstrosity of metal and rage before everything went to hell.

 

Bruce didn’t remember much of what happened next beyond vague impressions of bright repulsor blasts and falling rocks, but by the time he came back to himself, the damaged machine that had tried to kill them was lying in a crumpled, smoking heap at the bottom of a large Hulk-sized crater, and the Avengers were running up the street towards him.

 

“Bruce!” Steve exclaimed as he approached.  “Are you okay?  Where’s Tony?”  Bruce froze as his mind scrambled to keep up, panic setting in.  He didn’t know what his face looked like, but Steve grabbed him by his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake.  “Bruce, come on, you can do this,” he promised.  “Where’s Tony? Was he in the building with you?”

 

Bruce nodded dumbly.  “Yeah,” he croaked.  Licked his lips.  Swallowed.  “Yes, he was there,” he tried again.  “This armor was compromised. The….Doom’s device was still active.  It attacked.  I don’t remember much after that.”  Just darkness and yelling and rage, so much rage in such a confined space.

 

He struggled to his feet.  Steve helped him up, despite his obvious misgivings, and Bruce turned to face what was left of the building they’d been trapped in not even an  hour before.  Feeling distant, like he was treading through quicksand, he took a staggering step towards the rubble.  Then another.  And another, each step heavier than the last.  Vaguely, he was aware that Clint and Natasha and Thor were all there as well, talking to and around him, but none of that was important right now.

 

“You promised,” he said to the empty air, the words sounding horrible to his own ears.  “You said you’d be okay, that the Other Guy - that I - wouldn’t kill you.”

 

“And since when have I ever broken a promise to you?” Tony demanded.  And it was Tony, the Iron Man helmet removed and lying on the ground next to his prone form.  “See?” he grinned weakly when Bruce turned to stare at him where he was lying on the cracked and broken pavement, Steve already next to him and Natasha on the comms.  “You didn’t kill me after all.”  He coughed, then grimaced, his left hand making a pained, aborted motion towards his right shoulder, which was pierced through by a metal horn from one of Doom’s weapons.  The one Hulk had crushed had been missing one when it attacked.  Now he knew why.

 

Bruce wasn’t even aware that he was moving; he was just suddenly next to Tony, on his knees, his hands trembling as they pressed carefully around the horn. Tony sighed, pain tightening his expression for a moment as his eyes fluttered closed.  “Don’t,” Bruce demanded, his voice harsh, scraping up his throat.  Tony’s eyes blinked back open.

 

“We’ve got medics on the way,” Natasha told him. Bruce nodded, his hands still touching all around the horn.  He couldn’t make himself move away, despite the fact that he couldn’t see past the armor to the injury.  Blood had welled up around the metal that pierced Tony’s body, and Bruce’s hands were sticky with it.   

 

“Hey, now. No need to look like that,” Tony told him.  “I won’t die that easily.”

 

Bruce huffed a wet laugh. “You’re handling this a lot better than I am,” he admitted.  Tony’s gauntleted hand grasped his, and he twisted his hand around so he could squeeze back, despite the fact that Tony probably couldn’t feel a thing.  “I wish you had told me.”

 

“Why?” Tony asked seriously. “So you could panic, too?”  A shudder went through him, and he glanced at Steve.  “Hey, Cap, how about you get some of this armor off of me? It’s nothing but dead weight.”

 

Steve glanced over at Bruce for permission before pulling off pieces of the armor. He left the chest piece where it was – removing it would require pulling out the horn, which would probably result in Tony bleeding to death before the SHIELD  medics arrived – but he removed the gauntlets and leg pieces.  Tony had removed the helmet himself at some point. 

 

Bruce lifted his head when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Tony until the medics pulled him away so they could lift Tony onto a gurney. The genius complained the entire time, and that, more than anything, reassured Bruce that Tony would be all right.  He even joked about the rather impressive scar he’d probably have afterwards, which started a mock argument between him and Clint.  Bruce didn’t intervene; anything that kept Tony conscious and talking was welcome at this point.

 

The medics got Tony loaded into the ambulance. Bruce went to follow, but Steve’s firm grip on his shoulder stopped him.  Bruce scowled at Steve, not understanding why the other man was stopping him from going with Tony.  He might not be a professional, but he knew enough about medicine that the Avengers usually came to him with anything that wasn’t immediately life threatening.  And even when it was more serious, he was usually allowed to be present, if only because the Avengers felt better knowing that the medical staff wouldn’t try anything with the man who could turn into the Hulk watching them.

 

Steve’s expression was grim, his mouth drawn in a thin line. “Sorry, Bruce,” he said.  “But Tony asked me not to let you go.  You can see him later. After surgery.”

 

Bruce paled, stumbling back away from the other man. “Surgery?” he managed after several moments, his body alternately hot and cold.  He could feel his pulse thudding frantically in his throat, and he swallowed, closing his eyes and shoving back against the Hulk as hard as he could, his hands reaching behind him so that he could sink to the ground.

 

Nobody approached him while he tried to rationalize his fear. The loudest part of him was telling him that this was his fault, that if the Other Guy hadn’t followed Tony into the building and brought it down around their heads, Tony wouldn’t be hurt so badly.  But logically, he knew that Tony had been hurt before the Hulk had ever gone into the building.  Maybe he would have bled less, but if Bruce had transformed any sooner, he might have made things worse anyhow.  At least with the bull bearing down on them, the Other Guy had a target, something to attack, something that was away from Tony.  That the ensuing battle had apparently gotten them both out of the rubble was a bonus.

 

And he’d known that Tony wouldn’t be able to just slap a bandage on his shoulder and go about his day. Nor did he have the enhanced healing capability that Steve had.  But it hadn’t hit him until now that Tony was going to need an operation for his shoulder.  The horn had undoubtedly pierced through skin, muscle, and cartilage.  But Tony was terrified of being unconscious and vulnerable while he needed the arc reactor to live.  So why had he asked that Bruce not be allowed to see him until after the surgery? 

 

That was the question that was really bothering him, he realized. Why didn’t Tony want him there?  Thought it wasn’t just him, he realized, opening his eyes.  Tony had gone with SHIELD medical without a single other Avenger.

 

Steve was watching him, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay, Bruce?” he asked.

 

Bruce blinked at him. “I…yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said.  “Is there anything that needs to be done here?” he asked, looking around.

 

“SHIELD is taking care of clean up,” Natasha told him softly, her expression one of sympathy. “One of the baby agents is on the way with a van, if you want to head out,” she murmured.  Next to her, Clint grinned and gave a thumbs up.

 

Bruce gave them a shaky smile, grateful. “Yeah, I…thanks,” he said.  Even if Tony didn’t want to see anybody until after the surgery, he could at least be there as soon as his friend woke up. 

 

Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “Go on, Bruce,” he said.  “We’ll take care of everything here,” he said, turning away to deal with the emergency responders and law enforcement officers that were cautiously approaching them, Natasha at his side.  Clint gave Bruce a wink, then distracted the curious Thor by challenging him to a game of target practice on the destroyed bull, arrows versus hammer.

 

With something like relief, Bruce made his way down the rubble and out towards the main street. Sure enough, a black SHIELD van was idling there, and the junior agent who was apparently in charge of transporting him to SHIELD Headquarters was fidgeting nervously next the van.  He blinked myopically at Bruce’s approach.  “Uh…Doctor Banner?” he asked.  Bruce nodded.  “Please,” the agent said, gesturing to the van.

 

Bruce clambered in and settled in one of the seats, ignoring the paranoid thought that he was being taken to a black site in an unmarked van. The agent climbed into the driver’s seat and glanced back in the rearview mirror.  “Umm…there are some clothes in that bag,” he said.  “Agent Romanov said you would need them.”

 

Bruce blinked, glancing down at himself. He had forgotten that he was only in a pair of ragged, torn pants, covered in dirt and debris.  He supposed he should consider himself lucky that he even had pants on.  Sure enough, there was a duffle bag sitting on the floor by his feet.  Completely immune to the embarrassment that came with nudity by this point, Bruce changed quickly, grateful for the tinted windows on the vans.  The agent kept his eyes on the road, and once Bruce was decently clothed in the drab simple SHIELD logoed sweats, he watched the city pass outside the window, not really seeing anything at all.

 

As soon as they stopped, he was out of the van, his feet knowing the way to the surgical floor. The receptionist called out to him as soon as he walked through the doors to the ward, and Bruce moved towards her, hoping she’d have some news.  “Doctor Banner,” Cheryl greeted softly – the Avengers knew all the receptionists in SHIELD Medical by name.

 

“Cheryl,” he greeted. “Any word on Tony?”  The girl shook her head with a sad frown.

 

“Not yet,” she answered. “The shoulder wound didn’t give them much trouble – it missed the bone – but the doctors are worried about spinal damage, so they have him in traction.” 

 

Bruce’s gaze sharpened at that. “Spinal injury?  But how – ?” he demanded, wondering if maybe the Iron Man armor had crushed his spine when he’d been slammed through the building.

 

“Something sharp pierced the armor, between the L3 and L4 vertebrae.” She didn’t have to explain where the injury was located – Bruce was intimately familiar with human anatomy.

 

Bruce backed away silently, then set about pacing. He debated going down to the SHIELD research labs just for something to do, but given how distracted he was would probably result in an explosion or traumatized scientists, neither of which was ideal.  Besides, he had no intention of being anywhere else when the first unlucky doctor walked through those doors.

 

Bruce lost track of time while he waited, arguing himself several times out of just storming the surgical ward. Having the Hulk barging in was unlikely to be at all helpful.  The other Avengers wandered in at some point, freshly showered and bearing sandwiches and cups of coffee, which Bruce refused – he really didn’t need the caffeine, and his stomach was too knotted.  He gave them what little information he could, his voice sounding far away to his ears.  Clint swore and stalked towards Cheryl, Natasha by his side.  Thor didn’t bother to lower his voice as he demanded to know how his Shield Brother was doing, and what the medical staff was doing to ease his pain.  Steve looked around the room, his eyes narrowed, then turned and left.  Bruce didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t particularly care, either.

 

By the time he collapsed on one of the wide cushiony chairs in exhaustion, Tony still wasn’t out of surgery. He struggled for a little longer to stay awake, but Steve just told him to get some sleep and promised to wake him up as soon as they had any news.  He drifted off into a restless doze to the sound of their voices, murmuring in low, worried tones.

 

When the doors to the surgical ward opened up, Bruce was on his feet before he was fully awake, bleary eyes taking in the tired-looking doctor. The man wasn’t somebody that he recognized, but apparently he’d been brought up to speed, because the first words out of his mouth were, “He’ll be fine.  He’ll need a nice, long period of rest to heal, but there wasn’t any spinal damage, and the wounds were surprisingly clean.  He should make a full recovery, though he’ll almost certainly need physical therapy to regain a full range of motion.”

 

Steve was the one who thanked him, glancing back at Bruce, who ignored them all, already halfway through the doors. He hurried down the sterile white hallways, absently grateful that nobody tried to stop him.  In fact, the halls were nearly deserted, and other than a few interns that pressed themselves against the walls as they passed, watching him with wide eyes, he didn’t run into anybody else until he approached a room near the end of the hall.

 

“You can go in, Doctor Banner,” the doctor said, holding out a hand to stop him. “He’s awake at the moment, but he is on a rather heavy IV drip, so I’ll have to ask that you not agitate him.”

 

Bruce wanted to just sweep past him, but that would be counterproductive, so he stopped, though he couldn’t seem to stop his body from practically vibrating. “I understand. I promise, I just want to see him.  Please,” he added, just in case that made any difference.

 

The doctor looked sympathetic as he stepped aside with one final warning. “Do not upset him, or I will have to ask you to leave.”  Bruce nodded, barely listening as he pushed the door open a tiny crack, hovering undecidedly for a moment before his need to see the other man overwhelmed his fear of rejection, and he walked inside.

 

Tony’s eyes were dilated and unfocused when he walked in, but they moved to track him. Sheets covered him up to his chest, and one hand was fisted in the sheets over the arc reactor.  Other than the machines measuring his heart rate, and the IV bags hanging on the hooks near his bed contained a normal saline solution and what Bruce assumed was a pain killer.  Probably not morphine, though, as Tony had once told him that he hated the way morphine made him feel.  There were several alternatives that would accomplish the same thing; he’d check his friend’s medical chart later, though, just to make sure.

 

“Hey, Big Guy,” Tony greeted him tiredly, his voice hoarse. He gave a small cough at the end of it, his face twisting up in a grimace, and Bruce picked up the cup of water on the table next to him, dropping a new straw into it and letting Tony sip carefully.  Fortunately, since there wasn’t any actual spinal damage – a small miracle, to be sure – Tony was already somewhat upright.

 

When he was done, Bruce set the cup back down, but then he didn’t know what to do with his hands. And the SHIELD sweats didn’t exactly have pockets. Instead, he shifted awkwardly for a minute before finally settling for gripping the bars on the side of Tony’s bed, presumably to keep him from rolling out of the bed in a panic.

 

“Hey,” he finally greeted, relieved to see Tony’s smile, even if was a bit wobbly. “How are you

feeling?”

 

Tony rolled his head on the pillow. “Like I got stabbed by a metal cow and thrown through a building,” he said wryly. Bruce gave a strained chuckle, and Tony’s expression gentled, going more serious.  “But seriously, Big Guy, I’m okay.  The docs said I’d be fine.  And I’ve got you to keep an eye on me.”

 

Bruce sighed. “Yeah, I did a great job of that, all right,” he muttered.

 

“Hey, hey,” Tony said, reaching for him, though the movement was aborted when he tugged on one the IV lines. “Ouch,” he muttered, eyeing the needle balefully where it was taped to the back of his hand.  He looked back up at Bruce.  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

 

Bruce sighed, sinking down so that most of his weight rested on the railing. “Then why didn’t you want me to come with you?” he demanded, exhaustion making the question more of a plea than a demand.  “Why did you tell Steve not to let me come?  I’ve been waiting for hours for you to get done with surgery.”  He hated how petulant he sounded; Tony owed him nothing, and he wouldn’t have been much use during the surgery anyhow, but it still hurt that Tony hadn’t wanted him to come along to Headquarters.

 

Tony patted his hand – well, more like the tips of his fingers, but Bruce knew what he was trying to do, his aim was just a bit off, probably from the drugs – and sighed. “Because I knew it was worse than what you saw, and you already looked scared out of your mind,” he said.  “I didn’t want you to see me when the armor came off.”  He shuddered.   “It was…bad,” he admitted.  “I passed out pretty much immediately.”

 

Bruce’s hand snaked down and gripped Tony’s wrist, his fingers finding the other man’s pulse point, glad to feel that it was strong and steady. “Then I definitely should have been there,” he insisted firmly.

 

Tony looked like he wanted to argue more, but exhaustion won out. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered.  “I’m too tired for this.”  His eyes drifted shut, and Bruce moved to pull his hand away.  Tony’s eyes fluttered back open.  “Nuh uh,” he said.  “C’mere.”

 

He patted the bed next to him, his intentions clear. Bruce almost refused, but then he saw the look on Tony’s face.  His friend was scared and trying really hard not to show it.  He’d been brave enough, going through the surgery without any of the Avengers to watch his back.  He shouldn’t have to be brave now, and if that’s what he wanted, then Bruce was going to give it to him.

 

“All right. Budge over,” he said with a small smile.  “Carefully.”

 

When the rest of the Avengers came by twenty minutes later, they found Tony and Bruce curled together in the narrow hospital bed, wires trailing carefully over their bodies as they dozed.

 

And if Natasha snapped a picture to show to Fury later, well, that was her little secret.


End file.
